Happy Father's Day, Bobby!
by GypsyReaper
Summary: Part 3 of "The Old and the Sassy" Crobby Series Crowley/Bobby Singer. Bobby is feeling unappreciated, so Crowley drags the boys home from the road to spend Father's Day together. Of course, they're Winchesters, so nothing ever goes like planned!


Crowley was used to Bobby being a grumpy, pain-in-the-ass; it was basically the grizzled hunter's default to be a snarky grouch about everything. However, there was a very thin line between Bobby being irritated and Bobby being _dangerous_.

When the King of Hell popped into the hunter's home after a week away, he knew immediately something was wrong. The irritation was rolling off the hunter's in waves, and the fact that he was already drinking at barely 2 in the afternoon gave Crowley pause. Something had pissed off the old hunter, and the King of Hell was suddenly concerned that he would be on the receiving end of a super-soaker full of salt water and an exorcism for some transgression he didn't even remember.

Crowley might have been a demon, but he did have a fondness for Bobby that he held for no one else, so he didn't like to see the hunter upset. To be fair, though, he mostly wanted Bobby to calm down because he was worried more about his own skin than Bobby's emotional stability. Still, he used the skills he had perfected over the centuries as King of the Crossroads to coax out what was bothering Bobby.

It took some careful and calculated maneuvers and a lot of patience for Bobby to finally mutter what was making him so testy. The hunter was sitting on his couch, gently swirling a tumbler full of Crowley's Craig, the demon able to convince the human to give up his regular rotgut for a few drinks.

Crowley sat in a chair pulled up in front of the hunter, eyeing Bobby curiously, but not pushing the matter. Bobby (just like the Winchesters—hard to believe they weren't truly blood) was like a pot of water on a stove. They were able to keep themselves at a low simmer for the most part, but applying just enough alcohol was the same as turning the temperature up—eventually things would boil over. Patience was the key.

"I just…I don't feel appreciated, ya know? Those two idjits are always runnin' around, but they can't be bothered to call me lest they're in over their heads in somethin'. Can't even be bothered to make sure I didn't croak in my sleep or nothing. I ain't exactly a spring chicken anymore."

"So…you're upset because they don't check in on you?" Crowley asked for clarification. "The Robert I know is perfectly self-sufficient."

"Yeah, well the Bobby you know is also _lonely_. Yeah, you come around when you can and the boys show up sometimes, but it's never to just visit. Always a case they need help on or if I ask them to help me with somethin'. And do I ever get a thanks for all the times I've saved their asses? Nope. I just…little appreciate would be nice, ya know?"

Crowley nodded and took another sip of his drink. Bobby swallowed what was left in his glass and stood up, a little wobbly. After he managed to get his legs steady underneath him, he started making his way towards the stairs for his room. He looked at the demon, his eyes red and glazed over from the afternoon of drinking. "I'mma go and take a nap. Wanna come up?"

The demon shook his head, but smiled at the hunter. He held up his cell phone and rolled his eyes. "Sorry love, but duty calls. I'm sure I can slip away tomorrow, though. Make sure you haven't croaked in your sleep and all that," Crowley said with a wink, Even with the impressive amount of alcohol in his system, Bobby recognized the demon's scheming face. He was up to something, and Bobby hoped it had nothing to do with him.

* * *

It didn't take long for Crowley to find the Winchesters—the supernatural grapevine could move information faster than even an angel's wings. Most of the Supernatural monsters knew who they were, and were smart enough to get out of the brothers' way when they rolled into town. It just took some asking around to find them in Montana, fighting a Rakshasa that was disguised as a police officer.

Crowley materialized right in the middle of the fray. Dean went flying past him, thrown with remarkable strength, and landed on the hood of the Impala, putting a dent in the hood. He groaned loudly, and the bronze handled knife fell from his hand.

"Hello Dean," Crowley said a little loudly. "I was hoping to talk to you about something."

"Dean!" Sam yelled, who was standing behind the monster and had his arms wrapped around its shoulders, trying to keep it held down long enough for the killing blow. It was obvious that his strength beginning to wane, and he was having a hard time concentrating on the monster when his brother was curled up in pain.

"Hello boys," Crowley said a little loudly over the monster's groans. "May I have a word?"

"We're a little…busy….Crowley!" Sam yelled at the demon, almost getting thrown from the Rakshasa's back when he allowed his concentration to slip.

With a tired roll of his eyes and a flick of his wrist, Crowley sent the blade from the ground into the monster's heart. The Rakshasa fell to its knees before letting out an unearthly scream and dissolving.

"Not anymore," Crowley said, looking smugly at them. "So, that word?"

Sam looked both relived and worried when he saw Crowley there, but he didn't hesitate to run to Dean, still trying to recover from his impact. Both Winchesters looked at him warily.

"What? No hello? No thank you?" the demon said. "No wonder Bobby's grumpy with you two," he muttered to himself.

"Thank you," Sam said, helped Dean off the car hood and back on his feet. The eldest Winchester bemoaned the damage to his car.

"If you weren't already dead, I'd freakin' kill you!" Dean snapped at the policeman's uniform crumpled on the ground where the monster died.

Dean looked okay, more shaken up than anything, when he turned back to Crowley. "What do you want?" he asked.

"What makes you think I want anything?"

"You don't just help us out of the goodness of your heart, Crowley," Sam said.

"True. Mostly because I don't have a heart. But my favor doesn't concern me. It's about Bobby."

That made the two hunters perk up. "What's up with Bobby?" Dean asked in concern.

"He needs you home. He's been feeling a little under the weather, and you two can bring him out of his alcohol-induced stupor."

"Why do you care about Bobby?" Sam asked, narrowing his eyes, as though trying to catch the demon lying.

Like he'd be able to do that.

"I need to talk to him about some matters, and it would be nice to not have to worry if he's going to stab me with Ruby's knife when I'm not looking," Crowley said simply. Bobby hadn't said anything to the boys about his and Crowley's odd relationship, so the demon made it about business.

"Why would we help you?" Sam asked. "You screwed Bobby over once before, remember?"

"Yes, and he managed to get himself out of the deal with your help just fine. I have no intention of deceiving Robert, nor you. He needs you, so go. Get in your car and go."

"It's a trick. Or a trap," Dean said.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Look, here's the thing. Bobby doesn't feel appreciated enough. He doesn't expect you two to be around—you're hunters, and troublemakers and it makes sense for you to be galavanting all over. However, you're aren't exactly good about making sure Bobby is okay too."

Sam and Dean looked both surprised that this conversation was coming from the King of Hell, but also a little ashamed because he was telling the truth.

"So, what do you want us to do about it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, and if this was such a big deal, why wouldn't he tell us himself?" Sam counted.

"How does that quaint little saying of yours go? I believe it's 'no chick-flick moments?'" Crowley asked, using air quotes. He frowned at the boys as he continued. "You really think Bobby would say something like this to you two. 'Course not! But, you can make it up to him. In two days it will be Father's Day. I want you to go home and make it the best one he's ever had."

"You want us to spend Father's Day with Bobby?' Dean asked incredulously. Mostly because it was Crowley demanding it.

"Yes. And if you don't, I'll sick my hounds on you. They seem to like you, Dean," Crowley said, and with a wink he was gone.

* * *

"What in the hell are we supposed to do for Father's Day?" Dean asked as he threw his last bag in the trunk of the Impala and slammed the lid closed. Sam looked just as lost.

"Um, I think ties are a thing," he suggested as they got into the car simultaneously. The Winchesters shook their heads in unison at that suggestion.

"Maybe…a new hat?" Dean suggested.

Sam shook his head. "No, I—I think he gets those himself. I've noticed he actually has several different ones he likes to wear."

"Oh, so the blue one _is_ new? Okay, I thought I was crazy and that his hat was changing colors on me," Dean said. He looked at Sam curiously. "Why would the man suddenly start buying new hats after wearing the same one for our entire lives?"

"Uh…no idea. Maybe their gifts?"

"From who?"

"I don't know, Dean! Look, we'll brainstorm ideas on the way, let's just get going."

"This is still really weird. Us, spending Father's Day with Bobby? Like we're a normal family?" Dean said, shaking his head as he turned the key in the car's ignition.

"Yeah. Of all the surreal things we've done, this is up there," Sam agreed.

* * *

Bobby was pleasantly surprised when the black Impala pulled up in his driveway the next day. He barely remembered his drunken rant to Crowley from the previous night, but when he woke up the next morning he had been feeling less grouchy.

"Boys," Bobby said, going outside and giving them each a hug. "Good to see ya. What's up?" he asked.

"Nothing much," Dean said casually, "We were in the neighborhood and thought we'd see how you were doing."

Bobby looked at them curiously. "Montana isn't exactly a leisurely drive down a country road. You two all right?"

"What's with the third degree, Bobby?" Dean asked, his smile faltering a little. "We finished up early, decided to swing by. Make sure you hadn't kicked the bucket without telling us." Sam nodded in agreement.

Bobby decided he didn't really care why the boys were there, he was just happy to see them. "Alright, well, come on in. Gonna stay a while?"

"Few days, maybe longer if nothing pops up," Sam said, and they three hunters chit-chatted as they made their way inside. Bobby grabbed some beers from his fridge and met the boys in his study.

"So, Bobby, we uh, got a little confession to make," Sam said a little sheepishly.

Bobby's eyes widened slightly, and his shoulders slumped a little when he realized they must have drove out for information on another case. Still, they were here in person, might as well enjoy the company while he had it. "Okay?"

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" Dean asked suddenly.

Bobby thought about it, but couldn't think of any rituals tied to the second Sunday of June, and the date was nothing of note, either. "Not a clue."

Dean handed Bobby a card in an envelope. "Well, it's Father's Day. I know it's early, but this is a little something from me to celebrate." Dean's had a smile that spread over his face that was contagious.

Bobby couldn't think of anything to say. Part of him got choked up at the idea that the Winchesters had driven all the way to his house to try and spend Father's Day with him. He didn't want to cause a scene with his blubbering and make things uncomfortable, so he swallowed back his feelings and instead opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper, slightly crumbled as though from a back pocket, but still legible.

" 'Ten dollars off of a 30 minute Happy Ending Thai message,'" Bobby read aloud, and then looked at Dean with a confused look on his face.

"The place is in Souix Falls," Dean said enticingly. "You can get a nice, relaxing message, and Sam and I will make you dinner. Something other than hot dogs and beer. Sound good?"

Bobby looked at Dean (who looked mighty pleased with himself), then at Sam, and almost wanted to laugh, but the sincere looks on their faces told him they were actually trying to do this right.

"Uh…okay. You want me to…go now?" Bobby asked. Dean nodded vigorously.

"Unfortunately, they aren't open Sundays, but still! Go on, have some fun, unwind a little. You deserve it," Dean said.

Bobby looked at them again, but then nodded, a grin spreading over his face. Okay, so the Winchesters were not always on top of things, but their hearts were in the right place when it mattered. The old hunter decided to humor them.

"Alright. Guess I'll…see you later?"

"Perfect! We'll have dinner ready when you get back. Have fun, Bobby," Sam wished him with a grin.

* * *

Bobby had been to Sioux Falls plenty in his lifetime, but he had never noticed the little hole-in-the-wall place on the other side of town. It was small, and looked a little stretchy, but he decided it was worth a shot. The little old Thai lady who ran the place spoke little English, and she glared at the coupon, but said nothing as she ushered him into a darkened message room (over-sized broom closet more like).

He got undressed and slipped under the sheet on the bed, and a young Thai women at least a head shorter than him came in a moment later, greeting him with a gently "Hello, Sir." She went around the room, lighting candles and burning incense, and soon the warm glow of the candles and the pleasing smell of the lavender incense made the hunter's shoulders start to relax. He'd had a few messages in his day, but when her strong yet lithe hands slicked up with oil started aggressively messaging out the years of kinks from monster hunting, he remembered why they were as awesome as they were.

He groaned as his shoulders flared up with pain at the harsh treatment, but the moment the kink in the muscle left, he left like a puddle of happy ooze. _Maybe Dean's not such an idjit after all._

"Not too painful, sir?" she asked gently.

"Not at all."

"You have a lot of tension, Sir."

"Comes with the job," he said slowly, happily. Her hands slowly worked out kinks in his upper back, then his lower back, and her fingers teased the skin under the towel that covered him.

"You know, Sir, there are other ways to relax," she whispered, and just as Bobby's brain realized that was a seductive whisper, she reached under the towel and grave his ass a firm messaging squeeze.

Bobby may have been old and blissed out of his mind, but his reflexes were still sharp. He flipped himself off the table, even managing to keep the towel around his waist, and looked at her with surprise.

"What the hell are you doin'?" he growled, knowing his cheeks were bright red and glad the low light prevented her from seeing that.

The woman, girl almost she was so young, looked startled at his swift movement, but regained her composure. She slunk around the bed and came right up to him, forcing Bobby to take several steps away from her.

"You ordered the Happy Ending package. I'm here to make sure you leave here _very_ relaxed," she said quietly, and damn if her tone didn't send a shiver down his spine.

"I, uh, I didn't want that. Just a message," he explained quickly, taking another step back and bumping his hip into a table.

"Am I not good enough?" she asked, looking down at her young frame, encased in a little red dress that accentuated every curve she had. Bobby eyes _did_ wander, but the image of a smug demon dressed smartly in a black jacket ran her out of his mind.

Bobby was nothing if not faithful. Even if this girl was throwing herself at him, he wouldn't betray Crowley. The demon might not have the same reservation, so he had to be the moral compass of their relationship.

Also, Crowley was the King of Hell. Probably not the best person to try and cheat on. He'd seen the work of hellhounds firsthand, and Hell doesn't exactly sound particularly pleasant either—Dean could attest to both.

"I'm…uh, I can't. Sorry. You're fine on the eyes, but my…partner…wouldn't be so pleased," Bobby stuttered.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but her eyes darted beside him and she let out a panicked shriek. Bobby looked down and saw flames leaping up the wall from a candle he had inadvertently knocked over in his attempt to escape.

He leapt back, and looked around to try and find something to put the flames out, but there were only candles and oils—things that would do the exact opposite of extinguishing the flames.

"Find a fire extinguisher!" he ordered, and she rushed out of the room. Thinking on his feet, Bobby ripped off the towel from his waist and started beating the flames out with it. It was hot, and the wallpaper and curtain was creating a lot of smoke, making it hard to see or breath as the smoke made him cough.

The flames went out rather quickly, leaving Bobby naked with a soot-covered towel held limply in his hand. The adrenaline wore off, and he got dressed the fastest he'd ever had in his life, and slipped out of the message parlor and out a back exit.

* * *

Bobby walked into his kitchen and sat heavily at the dining room table, exhaling long and loud. Sam was cooking something extravagant—there were pots on every burner, and a weird-ass smell lingering in the air. It was heavily spiced and also smelled like burned cream. He decided to ignore it.

Dean, who was chopping up vegetables, turned to see Bobby in the chair, looking even more worn out and exhausted. "Hey, Bobby," he said, "What happened?"

"Uh….nothin'. Had my message. It was…uh, different," Bobby said, playing it off. Despite the colorful damnations he had wished on Dean as he angrily drove his car back to his house, he realized he couldn't tell him. Dean was only trying to be nice. He didn't need to know what had happened.

"Is that…soot…on your forehead?" Dean asked in concern. Now Sam turned around to see that Bobby's face was red, and there were little soot marks on his hands and face.

Bobby wiped his forehead, and chuckled awkwardly. "Oh, uh…car trouble. Just a little grease, no big deal. Let me wash up. When will dinner be ready?" Despite the odd smell, Bobby's stomach was so hungry he'd try anything at that point.

"In a little while," Sam said, stirring things in pots and pans.

As soon as Bobby disappeared down the hallway in the bathroom, Dean looked at Sam. "Dude, something happened. Nobody comes out of a happy ending message looking more pissed than they went in," he said.

Sam jerked back in surprise. "That's what you gave him a coupon for?!"

"What? Dude hasn't been laid in, like, 20 years. Thought it might make him a little less grouchy."

Sam let out a surprised bark of laughter. "But, Dean, happy ending messages don't exist. Right?"

Dean winked at his brother. "Thank God for the classifieds in Busty Asian Beauties."

Sam shook his head at his older brother's ridiculous antics. "Yeah, well, at least my dinner should go over well."

Dean looked down at the pots and pans, seeing the green sauce he was stirring, and wrinkled his nose at the smell. It smelled like spicy, curdled milk. "Dude, this sauce is green, and it _stinks_."

"It's supposed to be."

"This is supposed to smell like ass?"

Sam shot him a look, but Dean held up his hands. "Whatever, bitch. If you kill Bobby with this crap, don't say I didn't warn you."

"That's what the recipe said, you jerk!"

"Yeah, well, you're recipe sucks."

Before Sam could respond, the smell of burning meat hit them both at once, and they gained a look of horror on their faces. "The steak!" they cried, and Sam wrenched open the oven to see their little flank steak, which had taken an hour of hustling to afford, was on fire. The close proximity of the meat and its popping grease to the red-hot broiler over it caused the meat to catch on fire.

Sam grabbed an oven mitt and yanked the thing out, almost flinging it to the floor, put managing to place it on a small patch of open counter space.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Sam said in a panic, trying to keep his face away from the popping grease.

Dean quickly dumped a huge container of salt over the meat, extinguishing the fire and the popping grease. They looked at each other, then at the leather hockey puck covered in a little mountain of salt.

"We'll just wash off the salt," Sam said.

"And…cut off the burnt bits."

"Maybe he won't notice?" Sam said hopefully.

"I think if you wanted to kill Bobby, hitting him with the Impala would have been a more humane way to do it," Dean muttered, slowly stirring the lumpy curry sauce.

Sam glared at him, but was determined to salvage the dinner as best he could. If Dean's present could go off without a hitch, so could his.

* * *

Bobby had seen many terrifying, horrifying, and nightmarish things in his life, both before and after becoming a hunter.

The plate of food in front of his ranked right up there with Karen dying as one of the worst things he'd ever seen.

The steak was sliced into strips and seemed almost raw, and the green sauce poured over the top looked like rotten split-pea soup. There was rice on the plate too, but the consistency was that off mush. He tried not to sneeze at the over-spiced concoction, and he knew this wasn't going to end well. But when he looked at Sam's hopeful face, and Dean apologetic yet earnest smile, Bobby knew he had to at least try.

"Well, it's certainly different," he said vaguely, trying not to gang at the small. He picked up his utensils, carefully cut a piece of steak (which took a few long seconds to cut through the rubbery thing) and dipped it in the sauce. He swallowed once, and quickly shoved it in his mouth.

Too many things happened at once, but the most intense was the spices, hot enough to burn his tongue, and the punch of sour from the cream made him gag. He chewed carefully the steak for a long time, the rubbery tenure not giving at all. Eventually, he managed to swallow the horrible bite down his throat. Unfortunately, it didn't stay down for long. Without a word Bobby bolted from the kitchen table to the bathroom, only just making it to the bowl before he puked his guts out violently.

Sam and Dean trailed after him in horrified concern, and both recoiled in disgust and panic from the retching noises coming from the open bathroom. Dean punched Sam in the air. "I told you you were gonna kill him!"

"I'm so sorry Bobby!" Sam called out, and shot Dean a furious glare.

The retching sounds stopped, and after a moment the toilet flushed and the water started to run. Bobby poked his head out a minute later, looking tired and exhausted and still green around the gills. "Boys. I got a favor to ask ya," he said tiredly.

Both nodded their heads. "Anything," Dean said.

"For the love of God, never try to do anything nice for me again," Bobby snapped. "Someone seems to think I don't deserve it, and you two can't even seem to manage it. Just…leave me alone, alright?"

Bobby's head disappeared once more, and the boys looked horribly defeated. They slunk back to the kitchen to clean up their mess, leaving Bobby leaning against the wall in the bathroom, exhausted and tired and irritated. Luckily, it was early evening, and so Bobby decided to just go to bed. He didn't even bother saying anything to Sam and Dean, he just went up and collapsed into his bed. The hunter's long day caught up to him, and he fell into an uneasy rest instantly.

* * *

The smell of expensive cologne with the heavy undertone of sulfer jerked the hunter out of his night's rest. It was the middle of the night, Bobby figured, from the pitch darkness around him and the lack of movement from within the house. He turned around on his bed to see Crowley looking down at him, watching him sleep with those dark brown eyes.

"I know you're not exactly proper man alive, Robert, but even you should know not to go to sleep with your boots and hat still on," the demon tsked.

Bobby sat up and rubbed his eyes, not even trying to stifle his loud yawn. He flung his hat across the room and kicked his boots off the end of the bed before laying back down. "I'm not in the mood for insults, Crow," Bobby grumped.

"Bad day?" Crowley asked, sitting on the end of the bed.

"That's an understatement. The Winchesters suddenly got it into their heads to try and do Father's Day stuff for me," said in a pained voice.

"And?" Crowley prodded after a moment of silence.

"It didn't go well," Bobby said, his tone indicating he didn't want to talk about it.

"So, Sam can't cook and Dean is moron who only thinks the answer to everything involves sex. It's the thought that counts, isn't it?" Crowley said. Bobby glared at the demon when he realized Crowley had read his mind without even hesitating or asking.

"That ain't fair. Stay out of my head," Bobby growled.

"Second nature," Crowley simply said with a shrug, but it was probably one of the closest things Bobby would get to an apology. "By the way, why didn't you do the massage-girl?" he asked curiously.

Bobby draped his arm over his head so he couldn't see Crowley's face, but also to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks. Even in the dark, and under his bread, he was sure it was visible like a lighthouse in the night.

"I ain't a cheater," Bobby said after a moment that elicited a dark chuckle from the other man.

"Well, cheating on me would end in many painful ways for you," Crowley said.

"That's not what I meant. I mean I ain't a cheater. Weird as this thing we've got goin' is, I'm not gonna stray, and it's not to protect my own skin. It isn't the right thing to do."

Crowley chuckled again, and he leaned forward, kissing the hunter's exposed lips gently. "You're an enigma wrapped in a mystery, Singer," Crowley said simply when they broke apart.

Bobby moved his arm in order to look at Crowley; now that his eyes had adjusted to the low light, he could see the satisfied smirk on the demon's face.

"By the way, you don't really hold it against them, do you? I mean, I don't have any true fondness for Moose and Squirrel, but they did try."

"Nah. But today really sucked, Crowley. Murphy's Law and all that. If it could go wrong, it did. Just thinking that obviously _someone_ thinks I ain't been good enough to those boys, the way everything went to hell today."

Crowley grabbed Bobby's chin and forced the hunter to look into Crowley's eyes. "Those two morons are grateful to have you, Bobby. You saved their asses more than once, and you looked after them better than John ever managed. Do you honestly think John would have talked those two off the ledge like you did? Not to inflate your ego, darling, but it's because of you that Sam and Dean saved the world, instead of drowning it in fire."

Bobby didn't say anything for a while, but it was obvious he took the demon's words to heart (a demon being nice was definitely a weird-ass thing, but Crowley seemed to know exactly what to say to bring the hunter out of his funk). Bobby grinned after a moment and pulled Crowley into a deep and passionate kiss. A little voice in the back of his mind was glad he had thought to brush his teeth before falling into the bed when Crowley's tongue started to entwine with his.

"You talk too much," he teased, and Crowley winked.

"I can think of a few good ways to shut me up."

* * *

Bobby woke up the next morning alone in his bed and the morning sunshine too bright as it streamed through his blinds. The demon had a habit of disappearing while Bobby slept, but he still wished to wake up with someone next to him. It always made him feel like any night with Crowley was just a dream when there was no evidence of it when he was awake. Still, it was nothing to get worked up over.

He looked at his watch and sat up, startled. It was already 9 A.M.; normally he'd have been up for a couple hours already. He got dressed in his usual jeans and long-sleeved shirt and made his way downstairs, feeling unsure about seeing the boys. Although, the way the house was quiet, they might not even have been there anymore. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd left in the night without a word to him.

The pleasant smell of coffee and pancakes wafted up the stairs from the kitchen and drew the older hunter forward. Well, Crowley wasn't exactly one for pillow talk, so pancakes were probably not in King's repertoire. He walked down the stairs and heard talking in the kitchen. Sam was talking to someone, more than likely on the phone.

Bobby entered the kitchen to see Sam on one of the multitude of phone lines that he used to work the hunter network. He was flipping through a book from Bobby's study as he spoke. "Yeah, a silver knife dipped in the blood of a sacred cow should do the trick. Yeah, not really sure where you can find one of those outside of India either," Sam said, finally catching sight of Bobby. He pointed at the counter, were there was a pot of fresh coffee and a plate of fluffy and golden pancakes next to it.

As Bobby went to make himself a cup of coffee, Sam returned to the call. "The only thing I can think of is trying to get a local priest to bless a pint of cow's blood. How? Well, if you cut the blood with water, you might be able to claim it's wine. Yeah, it's a pain but that's what the lore says. Alright, if you need anything else just call back."

After Sam hung up the phone he turned to Bobby, who was sipping his coffee and leaning against the counter. "Mornin' Sam," Bobby said pleasantly. "Who was that?"

"Someone named Roger. Wanted some lore looked up, no big deal."

"You could have woken me up," Bobby said, glancing at his watch.

Sam perked up an eyebrow. "Why? I can look up lore just as well as you."

Bobby shrugged. "Alright, alright, no need to get fussy about it," he said, taking a pancake dipping it in his coffee before eating it. _Better than any doughnut._ "Who made the pancakes?"

"I did," Sam said, and Bobby paused mid-chew.

"You sure? Cause these are actually edible," Bobby said, and Sam laughed awkwardly.

"Yeah, about yesterday, I'm sorry. I should have quite while I was ahead. I think I'll stick to salads and pancakes from now on," Sam apologized, head down and looking sheepish.

Bobby walked forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Look, Sam, I'm still kickin', so no big deal. Besides, you tried your best. Just, next time, don't use me as your culinary ginaeu pig."

"I promise," Sam agreed, and they sat at the table next to the phones.

The front door swung open, and Dean walked in. "Morning, Bobby!" he said cheerfully. His clothes were dirty and his hands were black from grease. He took the towel that was slung over his shoulder, and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead and his hands.

"Mornin', Dean. What are you doin' at this time of morning?" Bobby asked as Dean walked to the sink and started trying to wash the grease off his hands.

"I tuned your car," Dean said.

"Which one?" Bobby asked with a smart-ass grin.

"Your Chevelle! Plus an oil change and I'm going to give it a good wash later." Dean got the worst of the black off, and he made himself a cup of coffee. With a plate of pancakes in his other hand, he sat at the table between Sam and Bobby, shoving food into his mouth because of the voracious appetite he had worked up. "Hey, Sam, you can actually cook!" he teased.

"Shut up, jerk. How do you know I didn't poison them?"

"Because you wouldn't do anything to this beautiful face," Dean replied, his cheeks puffed out from the amount of pancakes he was eating.

Bobby looked at the two hunters, and opened his mouth to say something when the "F.B.I." line started to ring. Bobby automatically started to reach for the phone, but Sam's long arm shot forward and he smacked Bobby's hand away. The older hunter looked stunned.

"You're not allowed near the phones today. At all. I've got this," Sam said, and he answered the phone with a busy-sounding "Agent Frank here. What? Yes, that's my agent. Damn good one, too."

Sam stood up and took a few steps away as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line. Bobby looked at Dean, then at Sam, and shook his head. He was tempted to splash them with holy water just to make sure it was the same Winchesters from yesterday.

"What in the world has gotten into you two?" Bobby asked. Sam hung up the phone, but he apparently heard the question anyway. The boys shared a look, and Dean swallowed the last bite of pancake before answering.

"Yesterday, we screwed up, Bobby. We made you sick, and that wasn't acceptable."

"Dean, that was an accident, could have happened to anyone—"

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "You're important to us Bobby. And this is the first time we've…you know."

Bobby looked at Sam, gesturing for him to continue his thought. The hunter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "We never did Father's Day before, you know? Not exactly something that came up back then."

"So, we're gonna do this right," Dean said. "You're worth it. So, I'm gonna take care of the car, and Sam will man the phones. You can relax today."

Bobby laughed. "A hunter, relax? Asking a bit much of the world, aren't you?"

Dean threw up his hands. "Just, go read a book you haven't read yet, or something. You just can't work today. Got it?"

"Alright, alright," Bobby relented. "I'll, uh, do something 'relaxing.'"

"Damn straight you will!" Dean said cheerfully.

Bobby got up and clasped a hand on Sam's shoulder. "This, uh, means a lot to me, boys. I really appreciate it."

"Of course, Bobby! Happy Father's Day," Sam said, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Enough with the tear-jerker moment, you're contaminating me with your feelings," Dean muttered. Sam reached over and pulled him into an awkward one-armed hug, and Dean flailed to get away, making Bobby laugh.

"Alright, ya idjits. I'll be in my study. Um, if you need me, holler."

Sam and Dean were too busy wrestling to notice, and Bobby snuck away to his office. Once he got inside, he allowed himself a giant grin. He took a deep, relaxing breath, and looked towards the pile of books piled next to his desk. It was the only stack of books that were books of mythology, lore, or journals—they were simple paperbacks he had collected over the years, intending to read them at some point. The inch of dust on the top of the stack attested to just how unlikely that was going to happen.

He dusted off one, shrugged, and flopped onto his couch. The first couple pages went by fairly quickly, but every time the phone rang in the kitchen he automatically hopped up to answer it. It was only after Sam's voice answered it that Bobby would settle back down. It was tough to get into his book after such constant distractions, and after he read the same page three times he closed the book with an irritated huff.

Bobby wondered if helping Dean would count as working. Being elbow deep in grease wasn't exactly therapeutic like it was to Dean, but he liked the simplicity of the job. Just as he decided to give it a shot, the smell of cologne and sulfur hit him.

"Robert, looking better this morning," Crowley said. "Not too tired, I take it?" the demon asked innocently, although his devilish smirk made the hunter blush.

"Not at all. Actually, I'm getting pretty antsy."

"Antsy?"

"Yeah. Turned out the boys redeemed themselves. Sam's taken over the phones, and Dean's working on the car outside. I'm not allowed to do any work today."

Crowley looked contemplative for a moment before he smiled. "So, have any plans?"

"Doesn't seem so," Bobby answered.

Crowley grinned. "Well, I just happen to be free today. Remember that vacation we spoke of previously?"

Bobby unconsciously grinned. "Yeah. You wanna-?"

"The world's our oyster, Robert. We can go anywhere you want."

Bobby had to admit, the offer was mighty tempting. Though he was a little nervous to leave the Hunter Network to Sam and Dean, he knew he'd trust no one else with it. They would take care of things while they were away. And Bobby realized that, dammit, it was Father's Day, and he wanted to just get away, for a little while.

He looked at Crowley and grinned. "Got anywhere in mind?"

"I hear that Washington is nice. Not too hot. You can meet Stan," Crowley said.

Bobby screwed up his face. "Who the hell is Stan?" he asked.

Crowley simply chuckled, grabbed Bobby's hand, and they were gone.

* * *

Sam and Dean wandered into the study a few hours later, but when Bobby wasn't around, they looked at each other in vague worry.

"I knew something was up," Dean said, looking around warily. "Too quiet."

Sam sniffed the air, and wrinkled his face. "Think that's…sulfur? And…cologne?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other. "Crowley," they said at once.

"Did he kidnap Bobby? Do we need to start putting out an APB?" Dean asked, looking around for clues.

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so. There's no sign of a struggle."

"What, are you saying he left voluntarily?" Dean asked with a scoff.

"Actually…."Sam said, trailing off. Dean gave him a look, and Sam sighed. "Well, uh…I have a thought, but you won't like it."

"Spit it out, Sammy! If Bobby's in trouble, we need to get moving!"

"I don't think he's in trouble. I, uh….thinkCrowleylikesBobby," Sam said, saying the last part without pausing for breathe. It took Dean a second to work out what his brother said.

"NO WAY!" Dean said, shaking his head violently. "NO, no way, ew Sammy!"

"Think about it Dean. Crowley threatens us to spend Father's Day with Bobby, just because he was upset? Remember that whole 'elopement' comment Bobby let slip last time? The fact that someone's been getting new hats for Bobby and we thought they might be presents?"

Dean looked horrified. "No way Sam! Crowley is not just a smarmy demon, (which would be bad enough) he's the King of Hell!"

"Who happens to visit Bobby a lot? For, what, exactly, because I've never heard a case spoken of once. I think they might be—"

"I'M NOT LISTENING TO THIS SAM!" Dean yelled, stomping out of the study back into the kitchen, his taller yet younger brother trailing after him.

"What's your problem? Is it because Crowley's a demon? Or is it because he's a guy?" Sam asked.

Dean's eyes went wide enough to see the white around his irises. "DEMON, SAM. Do NOT make this a gay thing. Which, by the way, why can't I not be surprised by that? The dude's been hung up on his dead wife for 20 years, that doesn't strike me as something a gay guy does."

"No, but it sounds like something someone in love with someone in a _vessel_ might do."

"Sam, you're talking NONSENSE. They don't even interact, or even like each other! He's a hunter, Crowley's a demon. Crowley wouldn't even give back Bobby's soul until we threatened to burn his bones. Why in the world makes you think they want to date?"

"Well…they do that sorta of…weird, orbiting-each-other thing that you and Cas do…."

The thud from Dean's jaw hitting the floor was almost audible. "Wha—what? We don't 'orbit' each other! Dude has no idea what the hell personal space is."

"He's halfway across the room when he talks to me or Bobby half the time," Sam countered. "He manages to stay out of everyone's way just fine, except for yours."

"Well, he's, uh…dammit, Sam, he's an angel, don't drag him into this conversation! We're talking about how impossible it was for Crowley and Bobby to be a….thing," Dean said, trying not to say or think anything of it.

"Well…" Sam shrugged. "It would be beneficial to us."

"How in the HELL would this be a good thing?!"

"If it's true, I bet Crowley won't hurt Bobby to get at us, or hurt us to get at him. And we can keep an eye on any evil mischief he might get up to, and I bet Bobby won't let him get away with any crap either. It's in everyone's best interest to get along, so let's just get along."

Dean's arms were crossed over his chest and he glared at Sam. "You're assuming they're together. What if Crowley just kidnapped Bobby and we're wasting time standing around here? What if Crowley is extorting Bobby's help? Crowley is a DEMON, we can't trust him."

"We can trust him to act in his own best interest. Even if Bobby is just helping him on a case, Crowley will leave us alone in order to stay on Bobby's good side. And, isn't it nice to not have demons constantly crawling up our asses?"

Sam did have a point. Since getting Bobby's soul back from Crowley, the demons that came after them dramatically fell into barely a trickle. Maybe Crowley was keeping the Winchesters safe, by proxy.

It was a lot to take in, but Dean was, if nothing else, learning to adapt to new situations. "Alright, if this is true (which I bet it's not SAM) then what do we do?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Nothing? If, a big if here, it's true, Bobby will tell us on his own time. Until then, we just keep an eye on them both."

Dean didn't look pleased, but he didn't quite look murderous either, which Sam took as a step in the right direction. "Alright. We're on recon. Just don't make me regret this, Sammy, got it? I won't be able to forgive myself if Crowley does something to Bobby and we didn't do a thing to stop it."

"Neither of us will be able to. After all, Crowley might have given us the push, but we really did want to give Bobby a good Father's Day, didn't we?" Sam said.

"It was weird, but worth seeing the old man's face light up like that," Dean said softly. Dean marched out of the study, and Sam trailed after him, both a little worried but ultimately willing to give the demon a shot.

If he made Bobby happy, they'd learn to deal.


End file.
